Cancer

[The second]

CANCER

I was sick and wrote poetry
I remained sick into the morning
I will fall like my father
Cancer is my birth sign
Cancer is my death sign
Hell is my castle
I am here but hell is still waiting
Heaven is a butterfly I saw once
Lit on a milkweed
With the yellows and greys and oranges
Goldenrod and Monarch in a thunderstorm
I would paint like Van Gogh
Touch the wings of every butterfly
As if they were my new born daughter

RDS
THE SECOND